


Alone at Sea

by silvercolour



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Beginning lonelyeyes, Elias is a siren, First Meetings, Gen, Gift Fic, M/M, Peter just wants to be Alone how hard could it be at sea, casual but vague discussion of murder-by-mermaid, mermaid au, or perhaps more accurately: Siren AU, they’re predators let’s face it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercolour/pseuds/silvercolour
Summary: Drifting at sea and looking for a peace- or more accurately: looking for a loneliness that seems hard to find tonight, Peter senses a presence. No sound has alerted him, no sounds were even made, and yet he knows he is no longer Alone.Looking around, Peter sees nothing. Except—Those eyes.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: TMA Valentine's Exchange 2021





	Alone at Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cursedwurm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursedwurm/gifts).



> Written for Rowan, for the tma Valentine’s Exchange on tumblr- I hope you enjoy this gift!
> 
> Note: the sirens mentioned in this fic are not the nice Disney variant. They are more fish-like in appearance (anglerfish-like, in Elias’ case), and are predators. Though nothing graphic is discussed, please do proceed with the appropriate caution. (This has got to be the least Valentine-esque note ever, which seems exactly what Lonelyeyes would want.)

It’s a cold and lonely night when Peter takes his boat out. His nights are always lonely, of course, but this one could be described as lonely even by an outsider.

The oppressive fog that came about the Tundra at dusk hasn’t let up, and it’s hard to know what’s right in front of you, nevermind find another person on the understaffed cargoship of the Tundra, where it’s hard to find people even in bright daylight.

And yet that foggy isolation isn’t enough, instead making Peter crave more. Because the solace of knowing there are other people about the ship, the safety of knowing there will be other crewmates (ugh) when you wake for breakfast, or return from your nightshift? Even that gets too much sometimes.

So on nights like this, nights when the very world and weather are a reminder of what it is to be truly Alone, Peter leaves the ship. He lowers one of the rowboats, and rows far enough away that he cannot hear the ship, or see her until the mists clear away entirely. He might drift, of course, but the endless expanse of ocean cannot reach him. Not unless the Lonely itself wishes it so, in which case Peter wouldn’t argue anyway.

This night his wished-for loneliness seems far away. Even adrift is his small boat Peter struggles to feel truly Alone.

/

Elias hates nights like these. Nights when visibility above-sea is next to nothing, and no sailor or passenger is fool enough to be out at night. It’s impossible to lure anyone on nights like this. Gnashing teeth entirely too sharp for anything but ripping and tearing he swims on. 

Winter is always hard, when there are no tourist-filled boats out on coastal trips, conveniently getting lost between the cliffs and the open sea and _exactly_ where Elias leads them. He won’t starve, of course- he’s too competent a hunter for that. He just prefers _real_ food over insignificant fish and sharp-beaked sea gulls.

Then he spots the small boat drifting all alone. Its oars aren’t moving, and though the boat lies deep enough in the water that he knows it isn’t empty, Elias doubts he’ll find anything worth his time up there. No one in their right mind wants to be out at sea on nights like these. That the seagulls nesting on the cliffs are beginning to look more and more appealing by the day is evidence enough of that, despite Elias’ distaste for feathers, and the stringy taste of their meat. Still, the hunger in the pit of his stomach urges him to check; perhaps some poor soul got himself lost tonight. 

Elias breaks the surface soundlessly, closer to the boat than would normally be safe, but for the mists that are making his hunting so difficult. At least they hide him well enough. Seated in the boat is a man, and Elias feels a slow smile pulling at his lips. Whoever this fool is, tonight will be his last night at sea. The man is sitting as though it were a perfectly balmy day, and not huddled in his coat like the cold weather wants him to, weirdly enough. Perhaps his being lost out here is no accident, but that is hardly Elias’ problem. With a flick of his tail Elias moves closer slowly.

In the boat, the man twists around sharply, looking in his direction.

/

Drifting at sea and looking for a peace- or more accurately: looking for a loneliness that seems hard to find tonight, Peter senses a presence. No sound has alerted him, no sounds were even made, and yet he knows he is no longer Alone.

Twisting around, he peers through the mists, looking for whatever it is that has found him. To his surprise, he sees no other boats, no movement of any kind.

Except—

Those eyes.

A pair of eyes stares at him from just above the waterline, situated entirely too close together to be any kind of fish, and somehow _luminescent_ despite the mist-filled night. Their shape is almost-human, but no human could survive in a sea this cold, Peter thinks. The glowing things –surely they can’t be eyes? Finding a swimmer seems so unlikely this far out in the unforgiving winter seas– move closer in a lazy drifting zig-zag, left-and-right-and– Peter shakes his head. They’re quite fascinating, for some reason. Distracting. Beautiful.

/

Maintaining eye contact is key.

Elias sees the man shake his head, as though shaking off an insect. But he keeps looking at the human, and slowly, slowly, very slowly moves closer. Equally slowly, the man leans forward, closer to the edge of boat and water. Move too fast and a target won’t have enough time to be mesmerised by him. Move too fast and they try to run. Not that the man could go anywhere this far out at sea. He’d tire from rowing long before Elias did, but the chase is his least favourite part of a hunt. It’s tiresome, and tedious, and entirely unnecessary if he gets this first part right.

Anyone who looks into his eyes long enough will find themselves distracted, and at sea, especially at night, distraction can mean death. Exactly as Elias intends.

Closer to the boat, within reach of the oars, but out of reach of any grasping arms, Elias halts, and he speaks. What he says here doesn’t matter, really. His prey will hear what they want, he thinks. Or perhaps they hear exactly what he says, but can noger process the words correctly, Elias has never been sure which it is. Regardless, the mesmer of his eyes, and the mesmer in his voice convinces every human to join him in the water. And anyone who joins a siren in their waters is lost already.

“Come swim with me, silly human. The mists are cold, the water is much warmer, and I am hungry–“

“No thank you.”

Elias reels back, and blinks–foolish–,breaking eye contact. The human shakes his head again, and sits up straight. “What are you, anyway? Actually, don’t answer that, I came out here to be alone.”

Elias has no words. It didn’t work? It always works– the hypnotic effect of his eyes and his voice has never failed him before. Certainly no man alone on a stupid little dingy could be strong enough to resist him.

Focusing back on his meal, Elias brings all of his powers to bear. If mesmerising this man isn’t enough, he’ll outwit him– how hard could it be? The man’s already gotten himself lost at sea. He has nowhere to go but down, into the waters, where Elias will wait for him. Or he could have waited, if hunger had not already eaten away his patience.

“I can tell you what I am– I’d be happy to,” Elias tries, because surely kindness will be the way. Information a lure into conversation, into looking back into Elias’ eyes.

“No really, I’m good,” and the man turns away from him. He actually turns his back on Elias! How dare he!

Elias ducks down into the water, swims under the boat and surfaces on the other side, close to the edge, only far enough away that he can look into the man’s eyes over the side of the boat.

/

Truly, this must be a test sent by the Lonely itself, Peter thinks. It really should not be this hard to be alone at night, at sea, in the middle of the winter.

The thing reappears on the other side of the boat, and Peter could turn away again, but he suspects the creature isn’t patient enough to play this game for long. Now that it’s closer he can see it’s teeth, meant for biting, and killing, and what seem to be claws on the ends of it’s webbed hands, and piercing, beautiful eyes…

Those eyes are a problem. The eyes seem to _whisper_ , speaking promises, temptations, offering wishes. Except Peter can hear their lies. Because the promises speak of the perfect place to be Alone, to never have to see another being, if only he’ll join this creature in the water.

And that doesn’t make sense. How can he be alone, when this thing is with him? So he refused– politely, of course, one never knows when keeping formal distance can help. And now it will not leave him alone.

Beautiful eyes move, and the mouth filled with shining teeth opens, and it says: “I am Elias. What’s your name, human?” In, around, behind the words Peter hears the offer: what do you want, what do you desire? What can it–he, Elias–offer Peter? A dangerous promise, one of wish fulfillment, and finality.

“I’m Peter,” he says, resolutely not responding to the unspoken whispers.

“You must have questions, I’m sure,” Elias says, and the longer Peter looks into those bright, bright eyes the more it feels like floating, or drowning. He’s not sure which.

“I do,” the words escape him before he can catch them, and the glint of teeth on the water says it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“What would you like to know?” Is what Elias says. What can I offer you in return for your life, Peter hears, and it’s a struggle to keep remembering that that is a bad thing. That he is in danger. That this Elias wants him dead.

But he does remember. Because the thing the whispers offer is the one thing Elias cannot give him. So instead of answering Elias’ question, Peter tells the whispering, mesmerizing voices: “I’d like to be alone. Forever,” he can feel himself saying the words, but it’s like he’s nothing but a witness now, no longer an active part of his own words. “I want to be somewhere I need never see another living being, to be swallowed whole by that hollowness, by the absence of any others. To truly be alone.” The words are freeing, a release, and the whispers quieten as he speaks: “It’s why I cannot accept your offer, Elias. It’s the last thing I want.”

The bright eyes that float above the water ighten, sharpen, in what Peter can only describe as anger: “I can give you that, too, silly human. It’s called the ocean floor. No one will ever bother you again there, that much I can promise you.”

Peter isn’t certain whether Elias misunderstood him, or if he’s just not listening to what Peter is saying. “I’m not looking for _death,_ you silly fish,” and that seems to have been a mistake, as the look in Elias’ eyes hardens.

“Really? Your actions suggest otherwise,” the whispers have stopped, the silence around Elias’ words deafening in their absence. All he hears is Elias and the threat in his voice, his eyes, his teeth and claws. “You _are_ alone already, as there is no one out here to save you.”

At those words Peter shifts back sharply from the edge of the boat –when had he even leaned in that close?– because Elias is _right_. He is Alone. No one knows where he is. No one could find him here if anything happened. He is truly alone, and hadn’t even realized it. The mists swirl closer in response: the Lonely was there all along. But it took someone else pointing that out for Peter to see.

“Oh,” is all he can say, and Elias seizes his chance to press his advantage.

“Do not ask if anyone will find your corpse; there will be _nothing left to find._ Tell me, human: will anyone even miss you?–“ Elias is just warming up to this, he so rarely gets the chance to threaten anyone, when Peter says something absolutely, utterly unthinkable.

“Thank you, Elias.” 

What does one say to that? What can Elias say to that, to his prey _thanking_ him? He has no idea. Elias blinks, confused, not even thinking about maintaining eye contact– it’s hardly helped him so far.

Peter sees the light in those eyes dim, and though they become less hypnotising, they are no less beautiful like this. “Thank you for helping me realize that, Elias.” Peter thinks for a moment. What can he do for Elias in return? He’s certainly not about to offer his own life– but perhaps, he can offer something else: “You said you were hungry, earlier?”

Those gorgeous eyes– Peter thinks they might be green, though it’s hard to tell while the mists cover the night–stare at him in confusion, and when no answer is forthcoming, Peter continues: “My ship can’t be too far, and there’s one or two members of the night watch tonight who will… not be missed. Or not much, anyway. If that should interest you?”

Judging by the gleam in Elias’ eyes, that does interest him indeed.

/

The next morning, breakfast is quiet, and less crowded than usual. Two members of the night watch on the cargo ship the Tundra have vanished, never returning from one of their last rounds before dawn. Peter warms his hands around a cup of coffee. Last night was such a terribly cold night– who knows what happened to those men.

/

Elias keeps an eye out, after that. Every now and again the ship returns– the Tundra, Peter calls it. He attempted to explain to Elias once what a Tundra is, without much success.

To Elias, who only knows this one Tundra, it means an easy meal, and even – a much rarer gift– a conversation. Perhaps even a friend.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think, I love hearing from you guys!


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